Wild Horses
by Shiki-Is-A-Hikikomori
Summary: "Whatever they say, miracles don't happen. At least, not in tiny, godforsaken countryside towns like this one, and certainly not to guys like me." Arthur does not suspect that this summer will change his life forever. US/UK, AU, M, summer romance, fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Wild Horses**

**Chapter 1**

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_Whatever they say, miracles don't happen. At least, not in tiny, godforsaken countryside towns like this one, and certainly not to guys like me._

So thought Arthur, the young emerald-eyed man, swiping his hay-ish hair from his brow, eyeing the field opening before his eyes. The wind played in the sea of tall grass, making it weave like the real ocean the boy had never seen.

From where he was standing, the line of thin birch forest behind his back, all he could see was this endless field marking the borders of his life and his boredom. He had faced this sight countless times before, but yet, right now it was making him bitterly, painfully aware like never before of the permanence of his fate – his cage. Here, the nature cultivated in you the feeling that you could have anything by spreading the entire sky above you, yet made you realize soon enough that you could have nothing at all but the illusion.

Arthur Kirkland realized this at the beginning of his 20th summer, the summer he knew would be just like any summer prior to it – it would promise change but that promise would be washed away by the midsummer rainstorms. In this place, summers were meaningless, and in his case the meaninglessness would not end along with the last warm days. He would be staying here – probably for ever – trapped in between the sea of tall grass and the endless sky full of promises.

Arthur crouched down, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on the entwined fingers.

"What will become of me here?" he asked himself. Over the yeas talking to himself out loud had become somewhat of a habit. It was lonely here. There were few people he could talk to and even fewer he wanted to talk to.

"What will become of me if I stay here?" he asked the bunch of daisies that trembled in the wind a little, as though dancing. "On a farm from six to nine, and then to the bar riding a tractor, getting stinking drunk… day after day, year after year, the whole life growing stubble and on my face and mushrooms under the bed… a lifelong hangover, huh? What will I do if I stay here? Get married to some farmer's daughter to hide that I'm gay? Have a normal, not-really-outstanding life? Go nuts?" he gave up on sitting and fell on his back into the green sea bellowing all around him.

Looking at the sky above him, falling on him, he shook his fist at it, then let his hands fall down lifelessly.

It would be a few hours before auntie would miss him. Even though he was long out of high school, she insisted on his having a summer holiday with as little work on the farm as possible.

"We couldn't send you to college, dearie," she used to repeat. "So the least we can do is provide you with a proper summer holiday."

He couldn't quite follow her logic here, but he had to admit he was kind of thankful for an opportunity to avoid the work he seemed to be doomed to do for the rest or his life. Or maybe not. There was too much time to think about nonsense and it was driving him crazy.

"You should go to the city sometime," auntie had suggested on one rainy day. "A young boy like yourself should have a chance to see the world."

Arthur had just shaken his head. Where would he go? And with whom? Everyone he had known back at school had gone away for college, and he hadn't really bothered to keep in touch with anyone. Gosh, did he ever even have any friends?

"Fucking America… with its fucking rosy dreams… with this endless sky that has sucked all my dreams out of me… Blimey, I used to be so fucking naïve," he mumbled, the burning glare of the sun forcing him to close his green orbs. "Princes… millionaires… coming to this fucking hole of a town to fall in love with me… I was… such a schoolgirl," his tone was half-annoyed, half-bitter.

The tall, tall grass surrounding him threw shaky, uneven shade upon the spot he was lying on. It would be so nice to take a nap here now… too bad he'd probably get burned to ashes if he really fell asleep. But he was weary, so very weary. Suddenly all his limbs felt like they were made of pig iron, he could not move a finger, he didn't _want_ to move. Just before allowing himself to drift into honey-coloured afternoon sleep, he overcame the sudden weariness for a moment to reach for his cap and place it so that it covered his face from the persistent sunbeams.

Even if it was just for a moment, he wanted to forget who he was now and recall the way he used to be – a child with amazing, crazy dreams of amazing, enormous towns and crazily beautiful people. Arthur let the honey-tinted wind of sleep envelope him, unaware that in about an hour he would wake up to learn the true definition of sky-blue…

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**A/N: **To prove to the world that I'm a master of multitasking, I'm starting a second story within two days from publishing the prologue of my first fic... OTL Couldn't help it, though. :P The idea for this came to me yesterday as I was crouching at the edge of the pea field near our house and listening to the train that never stops in our town, speed by... In a way this story is some kind of strange reflection of my own thoughts... Being stuck in the countryside for all eternity of the summer holiday SUCKS, darlings. Gives you a lot of crazy ideas and makes you start writing fanfiction. LoL. More to come soon! :3 (I'm gonna update Countdown2000 Sweetheart with the first proper chapter tomorrow! *heart*)


	2. Chapter 2

**Wild Horses**

**Chapter 2**

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Trains didn't stop at the station in the 'centre' of the sleepy little town. They sped by, swiftly, never stopping, and the station building had turned years ago into a half-abandoned roadside restaurant.

The half of his life that Arthur had spent at his aunt's was filled with the sound of trains speeding by hourly, somewhere across the fields, without the sight. Speeding by, never stopping to pick someone – anyone – up and take them to some distant city full of excitement and adventures waiting just about around every corner. Arthur often woke up at night to the vague melody played by steely wheels against the rails, it was the sound that haunted him in his occasional nightmares – the sound of trains speeding by – it, and the rolls of thunder. It was like some cliché metaphor from a cheap paperback.

And now, lying there, in the sea of yellowish green of the grass and white of wild daisies, he could also – though faintly – hear the disturbing sound of a train not stopping. And like the warm sunbeams on his skin were begging him to go to sleep an hour ago, it was now begging him to wake up.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tightly, in an attempt to catch the escaping doze by its tail. The sun played on his face annoyingly, and something was poking at his forehead. His thick eyebrows twitched. Sometimes there was just _no peace_ even in this seemingly peaceful place. He was just about to begin to drift away again when…

"Oi, ain't you going to wake up? There are two caterpillars right on you face, you know that?"

Arthur startled, his eyes snapping open, hands reflexively flying to his face.

"What?" he screamed.

After swiftly making sure there were no disgusting crawling creatures on his face – what did the fucker mean? – he turned his attention to the intruder, who was laughing his pants away.

As Arthur looked up, he got this strange feeling. It was as though his heart had made a tiny flip and then proceeded to sink down, _deep_ down – going miles under the ground, leaving his body to lie there, paralyzed, the heartbeats echoing in his eardrums all the way from the centre of the earth where the damn circulatory organ had sunk to.

"D-damn, you b-bloody idiot," he sputtered, sitting up despite his hands not really obeying him yet for some reason. "Is giving people heart attacks your bloody hobby, hah?" he glared at the man, who was half-bent over him, his hands on his knees, blond hair framing his face casually.

This made the stupid git laugh even harder.

"Oh my," the blond pretended to dry fake tears of laughter behind his glasses. "What have I found! You're a Brittie, ain't cha?" he offered Arthur his hand to help him get up.

Without really thinking, while still greatly annoyed, Arthur let the Yankee help him stumble up. Once he was on his feet, tough, the guy didn't let go of his hand but instead began shaking it energetically.

"My name in Alfred Jones, nice to meet cha," she smiled, exposing a mouthful of pearly teeth.

Arthur, it has to be said, was far less pleased by the meeting. He frowned, snatching his hand away from the newcomer, and opened his mouth to say a few well-chosen words. However, before he had a chance to let out a sound, all of a sudden the git's face brightened even more – if that was even possible – and he pointed at Arthur's brow.

"The caterpillars are moving!" he exclaimed with the delight of a four-year-old at the sight of a rainbow-coloured popsicle.

Arthur's face reddened as he caught on the bloody bastard's idiotic caterpillar joke. God knew he had had enough of jokes about his eyebrows during the two decades of his life. He turned his back and started walking away.

It took him a moment to realize that the fucker – Alfred, was it? – was following him.

"What the _bloody_ hell do you think you're doing," he eventually snapped after a few more steps.

"Following you."

"Why?" Arthur turned around, _more_ than just simply annoyed, his emerald orbs glaring at his newfound tail.

Apparently, the man, Alfred, was a little stunned at his hateful expression, because he blinked confusedly and opened his mouth as if not knowing what to say.

"Um.. because you seem to know where you are going," he managed to utter after a short, but awkward pause. "You see… I'm kinda lost and well…" he smiled sheepishly, as though he wanted to say 'please, mom, don't be mad'.

Arthur sighed, a little ashamed at his little outburst a moment ago. Bloody hell, he should be used to all the trimmer, caterpillar and wax jokes by now!

"Now look here," he started. "You should have said so since the beginning instead of making tasteless jokes. Though…" he frowned, not failing to notice that Alfred's eyes followed the movement of his thick brows. "May I ask you not to stare?"

"Sorry. You were saying something…?"

"Um. Just what the heck are you doing here? I mean, where _the heck_ were you going that you got lost and ended up _here_ of all the bloody places in this country?"

"Oh, that…" Alfred flashed a more confident smile this time. It seemed the little Brit had abandoned his intention – which was written all over his face just a while ago, mind it – to strange him here and now and bury his body on this field so that no one would ever find it. "Nowhere, really. I just decided to travel a bit, y'know – to go just where the road will take me, y'know. I have this map," – here he dropped his massive backpack on the ground and began digging in its contents – "And after I got off the train in that town… um… with a silly-spelled name… um… Bou… Bon… Boner?"

"You mean, Bourne?" suddenly, Arthur couldn't hold back a giggle.

"Yeah, you got it… I've never been good at this whole spelling thing… so," – the map was found – "I thought I'd just walk to the next town, they said the trains don't stop there and the bus goes only twice a day, once on Tuesdays, it seemed like it's close by, so I thought I'd list cut through the fields, but yeah I'm not really familiar with this part of the country, so…" Alfred concluded his partly coherent story, trailing his finger along the map of the United States.

When Arthur didn't react verbally right away, he looked up at him.

"Oh, I'm from New York, in case you're wondering," he smiled.

"Humph," the stupid New Yorker's smile beaming at him like he was the best thing to ever happen in his stupid life was making Arthur strangely uncomfortable. He tugged a loose strand of hair behind his ear and wanted to say 'Like I could care', but instead found himself saying:

"I– I'll show you the way to the country road to the 'town'. So… um… follow me."

He walked up to Alfred and past him, heading towards the trees.

"And don't think I'm doing you a favor," he added on the second thought. "I'm just going home and it's in the same direction, so…"

Alfred let out a laugh and, with a few swift strides, caught up to him.

"Eh, is it a long way to go?" he asked.

"Long enough for someone carrying half of their house on their back," Arthur mumbled, wondering to himself how true the rumours about 'crazy city folk' were – just who would try to walk ten miles through fields and forests just to get to… well… 'the place with one single traffic light and a wine shop and a post office', as he preferred to refer to the 'town'? The lad _had_ to be at least slightly nuts. He glanced at the man walking by his side.

Nuts or not, he was… well, hot – for the lack of any other word. Arthur looked away quickly, mentally shaking his head.

"Nice weather, isn't it?" Alfred asked, saying the most cliché conversation opening line in a way that made is sound perfectly natural, even not cliché at all.

"Not really," Arthur sighed. "Just the usual."

"Really? So it's not often cloudy here… what about rains?"

"Well, the midsummer storms are pretty nasty…"

"Thunderstorms? With lightning bolts?"

"Y-yeah."

"No way! That's so cool!"

"Oh really?"

"Eeh? What's with that face? You're scared of thunder?"

"Shut up, git. I'm not."

"Ha ha! We'll see that!"

"The _fuck_?"

"Ha ha!"

* * *

They came to the little valley that was within spitting distance from Arthur's aunt's land sooner than Arthur had expected. He blamed the fast flow of time on the chatterbox of a guy that just wouldn't _shut up_. He had never walked in this area with someone. Oh well, maybe they just had walked faster than what he was used to.

There was no bridge over the brooklet at the bottom of the valley, so the boys just jumped over it. When Alfred pointed out that the rivers in this area apparently lost in size to plains and the sky, Arthur ended up noting – rather annoyed – that not everything in America came in XXXXXXL size. Alfred then 'smoothly' switched the topic by asking him what kind of hamburgers he preferred. Arthur's face was priceless.

"You know, I always preferred the cheese to be _on top_ of the patty in a hamburger, wanna know why?" Alfred huffed as they climbed up the opposite slope of the brook valley. His backpack was weighing him down and causing him to fall behind a little.

"Like I care how you prefer your bloody… ah–" without noticing, Arthur had stepped on a stone that lay hidden in the grass. His ankle twisted as he slipped, losing his balance. With a surprised yelp, he fell back.

"Whoa! W-Watch out!" he heard the man behind him exclaim. He didn't have enough time to even come to expect a collision with the ground, as he felt a pair of strong arms catch him. For a heartbeat, Alfred stood on the slope, his arms around Arthur, and then –

Like in some dumb kids' cartoon, his backpack outbalanced him, and the two of them stumbled to the bottom of the hollow, Alfred eventually tripping over and falling. Arthur landed on top of him, the air escaping his lungs.

"Oww…" the unfortunate savior grumbled. "Crap… that hurt! My ears re ringing," he struggled out of the shoulder straps. "Are you all right?" he asked Arthur, pushing him half-off himself and helping him to roll over so that the boys were now facing each other.

"Oi, did you hit your head?"

Arthur slowly opened his squeezed-shut eyes.

And that was when he for the first time _saw_ Alfred.

He had looked at him on the field, and along the way, sure thing, but this was different. He had _looked_ at him. Now he _saw_ him.

His face was awfully close, their noses almost touching. Arthur could feel the heavy puffs of hot breath of the other man on his lips and somehow it felt more improper, more indecent than… it made him blush harder than he had blushed when auntie had caught him looking at porn as a teenager… For the second time today he felt his heart make a journey to the centre of the earth.

"Now that I think about it," Alfred breathed out, his voice quieter than before for some reason. "What's your name?"

He looked up and was swept over by a blue storm – the sky had fallen on him. Behind the slightly askew glasses, there was a pair of eyes that was looking at him, looking, looking, looking, pulling him in to drown in their depths and never to come back to the surface again. For a moment way shorter than a blink of an eye, their eyes locked together, emerald green into blinding, radiant _sky_ blue.

"A-Arthur," he whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," Alfred murmured.

The light in his eyes was burning him. '_Blinding,'_ a thought flashed in his head. Arthur blinked and turned his head to the side.

"I… I'm… G-get off me. I'm all right," he sputtered, pushing Alfred away. The other laughed, relieved.

"Shit, that gave even me a scare," he scratched his head, a sheepish look on his face. "Up we go!" he exclaimed jumping on his feet and picking his backpack from the ground. It had a slightly suffered look.

"Aw," Alfred frowned, while Arthur stumbled on his feet as well after making sure he hadn't sprained his ankle. (He hadn't. Which was a true miracle.) "I think I heard a pop when we fell… I bet my chips just died and honorable death in there," he pouted. "Not like that made them inedible, though!" he added optimistically.

Arthur couldn't but stare, his heart still recovering from the scoot 'there and back again'.

"Are you sane?" he asked. "Or are you _really_ carrying around chips in there?"

"Chips, Arty," Alfred pointed at him with his finger accusingly. "Chips, not French fries. This is America."

"My name is Arthur, in case you didn't hear me, git," Arthur frowned.

"Yeah, yeah, your majesty."

They began to climb up again, watching their steps more carefully this time.

* * *

Soon enough, the half-heartedly erected fence that marked the borders of the land that belonged to Arthur's aunt, came into the sight. The two of them were strolling now much more casually than upon leaving the field where they had met.

Arthur had come to the conclusion that despite being noisy, Alfred didn't seem to be a bad guy. As they walked, he went on chattering about college parties. In a way, he gave an impression of a teenager movie character – 'the popular guy' –type.

"What college do you go to?" he asked Arthur when they eventually reached a half-abandoned country road that was only used by tractor drivers.

"I…" Arthur took in a deep breath. "I don't go to college."

"No way!" Alfred looked at him, surprised. "You're still in high school? Well, you _do_ look kinda young."

"Of course not!" the green-eyed boy said a little abruptly, not looking at him. He started walking faster, looking straight ahead. "I'm 20."

"No way!" Alfred exclaimed again. "Seriously?" he asked, catching up with Arthur's pace and turning to stare at his face as they walked. "No way, man," he shook his head in disbelief. "Are you tellin' me you're older than me?"

"W-whatever. What's so surprising, anyway? Not like it matters, huh."

Arthur stopped. They had come to the crossroads where the asphalted road ran over the path they had walked down. Across the asphalt, a neater graveled alley took its start, disappearing in the shade of tall bushes and small trees growing on both sides of it.

"We part here," he said somewhat grumpily. "Just follow this asphalted road" – he pointed to the right – "there's about 3 miles to it. Once you see the old railway stop, you'll know you're there. Bye." He crossed the asphalt and headed down the alley.

"Arthur!" he heard the Yankee shout after him.

"What?" he looked back over his shoulder.

"It was nice to chat with ya!"

"Whatever."

"Can I come see ya?"

"What?" Arthur's eyes widened a little at the question. "What for?"

"If I get bored or something."

"Fine." He began making his way down the alley again.

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Even after he had disappeared behind the slight turn of the path, Alfred kept standing at the crossroads for a while, looking after him. His eyes were sparkling mischievously behind his glasses.

"Hm… I wonder if I'll get bored here…" he mumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. Then, he took the map out of the pocket and kept turning it in his hands for a while, as though trying to find something on it. Apparently, he failed, because he stuffed it back into his backpack barely bothering to fold it, and instead dug out an object that looked like a small spray bottle.

"_So that you won't get totally lost when you're not sure you've chosen the right way,_" he muttered. "Mattie, you're a genius, and officially my favourite brother on earth."

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**A/N:** Woohoo that was one FAST update! Now, now... can anyone guess what the spray bottle lookalike object is and what is Alfred going to use it for? :D Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/faved/added this to their story alert! Moar to come soon! I don't know yet how long this story will be, but I hope to finish it by the end of August.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wild Horses: Chapter 3**

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Alfred Jones wasn't a guy to put things on the back burner. The next morning, while on the breakfast hunt – since the only hostel in the town didn't serve hamburgers for breakfast, an unfortunate fact which probably had its roots in the backwardness of the whole place – he chatted up a few merry locals, and by noon he had rented the most horrendous wreck of a vehicle he had ever seen in his life. Frankly, that was one successful diplomatic operation taking into account the size of the 'town' and the lack of an actual car rental service there.

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Arthur woke up early. He could hear the farm's rooster crow somewhere on the backyard. As he lifted his still sleepy eyes to the window, he saw the pinkish morning light lingering on the leaves and white flowers of the bush of jasmine that swung softly in the waking breeze of still cool air. He pondered if he should crawl out of the warm bed and go help auntie with her early chores, but decided against doing so. She'd just make a fuss saying kids should be sleeping in in the summer.

The emerald-eyed boy rolled over to his back, yawning. He winced at a feeling of discomfort in his leg – it seemed he had sprained a muscle a bit, after all. The bruises on his elbows also were making themselves known.

'_Oww,'_ he whimpered in his mind. "If it wasn't for that bloody bastard I'd probably have taken another route and wouldn't have fallen down like that," he thought.

Speaking of the 'bloody bastard'… _Damn, how can a person's eyes be so damned blue and bright?_ Arthur rubbed his eyes in frustration. He hated to admit that landing on top of the dim-witted New Yorker was the Brit's first near-romantic experience in ages, and closest physical contact with a guy most likely ever. Talk about twisted definition of 'romantic experience'…

"I wonder if he'll show up…" Arthur mumbled. A part of him loathed the idea, another desperately wanted Alfred to come. Maybe he was the one who was bored, who needed company. Arthur would never admit this to anyone, but secretly he prayed for someone – anyone – to come and save him from his own thoughts, from the silence, from the feeling of being completely isolated, cut off from the outside world. Perhaps, just maybe, Alfred was the heaven's answer to his silent, unspoken pleas. Why would his eyes be so bright, otherwise?

'_He won't come,'_ the thought flashed through his head before he could hold it back. _'Why would he?'_

* * *

There was no one in the kitchen, so Arthur just ended up grabbing some breakfast by himself before sneaking out through the kitchen door. It was past eleven already – Arthur had to admit that he had stayed in bed for a bit _too_ long this morning. Reading in bed was nice, and the book he had gotten his hands on was interesting, so he had forgotten the flow of time and not woken up to reality before his empty stomach began giving his caught-in-clouds head noisy signals.

When he was crossing the yard, auntie shouted him a 'good morning' from the stable. Peeking into the soft semi-twilight that smelled of hay and horses, Arthur informed her that he was going for his morning walk to the ponds.

"Wouldn't you like to take a towel with you?" the matronly woman asked, leaning on the rake she was holding with both hands.

"I don't think I'm in the mood to take a dip right now," he shook his head.

"You'll be by the time you get there," his aunt laughed, starting to rake up the dirty hay from the floor.

Arthur shrugged, drawing back into the bright sunlight. As he walked away he could hear her hum 'God Save the Queen' merrily.

* * *

Much to his displeasure, Arthur had to admit that he should have listened to auntie's suggestion. Instead of a pleasant stroll, what he had gotten himself was a sweaty hell. About half an hour after parting from auntie at the stable, Arthur let himself fall dead on the sprawling grass by the nearest of the three ponds.

He turned his head to the side, facing the sparkling water. It was crystal clear and even from where he lay, Arthur could see tiny fish dancing in jovial little clusters right by the water front. He grunted, reaching to unbutton his shirt. Sweaty hair strands were sprawled across his reddened face.

Arthur took off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his pants. Slowly, with ecstatic anticipation, he slid his feet into the shallow water. Heavenly. How he wished he could plunge into it, letting the cool weaves embrace his body and wash away the heat… On the second thought… what was preventing him from doing that this instant?

Quickly, he waded to the shore and discarded his clothes. For a second he considered leaving the boxers on, but decided against doing so – wearing pants without underwear on the way back… the thought made him shudder in disgust.

* * *

Alfred headed down the path whistling merrily and spinning the car keys around his forefinger. He had a towel hanging over his other arm. So far he was liking the countryside – let's take today: a wonderfully warm day, not even close to the suffocating heat you had to endure in the city if you crawled out of your air-conditioned rat hole of an office or apartment. And people were definitely nice. Or at least far more relaxed. It was like they had all time in the world.

Soon enough, the path the woman at the farm had shown him ended, melting into the moor. Behind the tall grass a few dozens feet away he could see the water shimmer, partly shaded by the bunch of trees on the other side. Alfred walked closer, curiously glancing around, before being stopped by the sound of splashing water. He slowed down his pace, before stopping completely at the sight that opened before his eyes.

The pond was the loveliest he had seen in his life, greenish-blue surface glistening in the sunbeams that struck through the trees on the opposite end of the reservoir. But it wasn't the dance of the sunrays on the rippling surface nor the silent guards of the water, yellow irises, that caught his attention. From where he was standing, he could clearly see Arthur dabble in the water, heading for the shore.

Alfred couldn't really explain at the moment why was he unable to tear his eyes off the man in the water, when he stood up where the water was just reaching his slim waist, water running in tiny brooklets down his surprisingly pale skin. The expression of pure bliss was painted across his face that was sprawled with his wet hair. Slowly, he was running his hands over the cool surface of the lake, as tough drawing some kind of magic circles. The vision of the emerald-eye boy's lower body was distorted by the ripple on the water around him, and so it wasn't until he lifted his hands up and let himself fall back into the embrace of water that Alfred realized that the other was stark naked. He let his eyes follow the man in the water, watching him swim.

The sight was, frankly speaking, a little out of this world. It seemed to belong to some fairytale book – an illustration depicting a merman performing some beautifully tantalizing dance in his domain, in a tiny lake deep in the woods, unaware of a rude intruder watching him – the youth that had died a horrible death to become immortal, the mythological inhabitant of the pond… He wasn't swimming, he was dancing in the water.

Alfred smacked himself mentally, shaking himself out of the daze. What the hell was he thinking? How long had he stood there? He definitely hadn't come here to peep on the other swim naked… on the other hand, he didn't _expect_ to walk on this kind of scene.

It was time to make his presence known to the other. Alfred took a few rapid steps to create the impression of having just arrived.

"Yo! Arthur!" he shouted, and weaved, running to the edge of water. He noticed a pile of neatly folded clothes on the grass. "How's it goin'?" he grinned, watching Arthur gape at him for a second before crouching down so that the water reached his chin, before backing away to where the water was deeper. "What's the matter, bro?"

Arthur's expression was that of horror and embarrassment simultaneously, with perhaps a bit of anger thrown in as well.

"Idiot! What are you doing here?" he shouted at the grinning blond on the shore.

"You're acting like a girl!" Alfred laughed. "Mm… the water looks really cool and nice. How d'ya find it?"

"It _was_ great," Arthur spat the words out as though they tasted bitter.

"That's neat! I'm jumping in." Alfred sat down and started pulling off his shoes.

"N-no!" Arthur shouted, his eyes widening even further. "Leave me alone! Go away!" he cried, not fully realizing how childish that sounded.

"Aw, don't be so greedy, Arty. You don't own the water here." Alfred was already pilling the shirt over his head.

"In fact, I do," the pout could be heard in Arthur's voice.

"Oh really?"

"I assure you."

As Alfred began pulling off his pants, the boy in the water turned his back demonstratively to him and waded away, the water now reaching his armpits.

"Just get lost, would you," he grumbled. "Hear me? Get lost." Arthur turned around to face the deserted shore. "Alfred?"

There was no one. Only the hot breath of wind was tossing gently the tall grass from side to side. The blue-eyed tornado was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling that he had had enough of swimming for this day, Arthur stumbled quickly to his clothes. He pulled his pants on as quickly as he could, not caring about them getting wet. Zipping up, he straightened his back and looked around searching for Alfred. The boy's clothes lay scattered on the ground, close to where he was standing.

"Yee-haw!" a cry pierced the summer air, promptly followed by a massive splash.

Arthur's eyes darted to the side of the pond where the ground descended into the water in a steep clay cliff. A cloud of bubbles on the surface close to it spoke for itself. Soon, Alfred's head plopped onto the surface.

"Artie!" he cried, seeing the other look at him. "This is fucking priceless! I've always wanted to jump like this into the Hudson River!"

Arthur couldn't but shake his head.

"You bloody moron!" he shouted, his eyebrows furrowed, as he bent down to pick up his neatly folded shirt.

"Oh no, Artie!" the idiot in the water lifted his hands, kicking the water to stay on the surface. "Look! I'm drowning!" he let himself sink.

After a second, Alfred's head was back to surface. "Save me! I'm drowning," he cried on top of his lungs.

"Go ahead!" Arthur shouted back.

"I-ah, I'm not joking… I my foot is cramping," the idiot was starting to sound kind of convincing… Arthur looked up.

"I'm… gonna drown," Alfred howled, splashing around with a seeming difficulty to keep his face above the water level. "I can't swim-" his head disappeared.

Arthur watched the bubbles, his hands crossed on his chest. Just how stupid the other thought he was? He waited for the moronic git to come up to the surface, but to no avail. A few more bubbles, and then it was all quiet. Arthur gulped, his eyes darting about the pond in search for the signs of life.

"A-Alfred?" for some reason his voice was shaking. He half-ran to the spot from which the other had jumped. "I'm _not_ saving you," he mumbled, peeling off his shirt rapidly. "I'm _so_ not saving you." He drew his lungs full of air and jumped.

"Damn you, git! Stop joking already!" Arthur was looking around frantically, while struggling to keep himself on the surface – his soaked jeans were pulling him down. "This is not fully!" he was starting to get truly scared. What if… it hadn't been a joke and… there was now a corpse in the water..? A cold shudder ran through Arthur's body and for once he cursed his wild imagination. _No, no, no_, he told himself, swimming towards the shore now. The damned imbecile had to had hidden somewhere and was probably laughing his ass off at the moment watching him panic. There absolutely positively was no corpse in the water right now, no slick gray fingers would clutch at his ankle and pull him down to the cold bottom of the pond….

Something wrapped around his right ankle.

Arthur's eyes grew to the size of tea plates as that _something_ began pulling him down. That's when he freaked out, unable to control his mad fantasy any longer.

Kicking and splashing while screaming God knows what on top of his lungs, Arthur struggled out of the firm grasp and towards the shore. He felt his foot collide with something soft, and it freaked out him even further – he barely noticed Alfred, who came to the surface gasping for air – he was shaking, and as he felt strength leave his limbs, his panic only deepened.

"Jesus, Arty, calm down!" he heard Alfred shout. His heart was beating madly, his vision blacking out partly from the lack of oxygen as his breathing became irregular.

Arthur barely noticed Alfred, who was helping him now to get back to the dry ground. The boy was holding his shoulders as he staggered wading towards the shore. He was whispering calming words and apologies into his ear, the warm breath tickling softly his pale cheek.

"Blimey," he sat down on the grass instantly falling to lie on his back, covering his face by his hands. "You… goddamn fucking idiot… shit… just how much of a moron are you?" he was gasping.

"I'm… sorry."

Arthur could _sense_ the sheepish expression on the other's face. He just grunted in response.

"I just couldn't resist once I noticed the rushes… I didn't think you'd freak out this much," Alfred's voice was quiet.

"Of course you didn't think, bastard. What did you expect, hah?" Arthur moved his hands to glare angrily at the boy. "That I'll be overjoyed when something slick grasps my leg and tries to pull me down? Oh, what a magnificent joke!"

Alfred hung his head guiltily, looking miserable.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, eyes like those of a kicked pup.

Arthur just snorted and turned to look away. He wouldn't fall for a cheep trick like that!

"Please," Alfred whined, crawling on all fours to Arthur's side. "Forgive me," he pouted.

Arthur glanced at him and regretted doing so in that very instant. His heart made a loop and he realized it was impossible for him to be mad at this idiot any longer. Not when he was looking at him with _those_ blue eyes.

"Where are your glasses?" he frowned.

"Oh…" Alfred smiled sheepishly, brushing his wet hair off his face. "I'm wearing contacts today. Does it look bad?"

"N-no," Arthur looked away, blushing involuntarily.

His blush deepened further as the other grasped his hand with his both hands and held it in front of him like a golden prize.

"So you're not mad at me?" he beamed hopefully. "Friends?"

Arthur couldn't but nod, looking at the blond shyly. To his surprise, Alfred rapidly let go of his hand as though it had suddenly turned into red-hot iron.

"Great!" Alfred flashed a blinding Hollywood smile to hide his momentary confusion. Oh dear… did the Brit have any clue how cute that kind of look was?

* * *

"You what?" Arthur lifted his head to stare at him mouth slightly agape.

"Uhh… I rented a car," Alfred looked at him, smiling obliviously.

"No, dimwit, after that!"

"So that we could go for a drive and you'd show me around this place?"

The boys were sitting in the kitchen of Arthur's aunt's house. Arthur had no clue how did that happen, but apparently his aunt had taken a great liking to Alfred after meeting him _once_. He rolled his eyes mentally.

"Isn't that a great idea, Arthur, dear?" auntie chirped from her stand by the stove. She was cooking a huge pot of something with ambiguously disgusting smell to it and claimed it to be for the pig. "I'm always telling you, am I not? You shouldn't sit your youth away here – you'll end up just like me," she narrowed her eyes, tip-toeing to peek into the massive pot.

Arthur grumbled in disdain.

"Do you realize," he pointed at Alfred accusingly with a cookie. "That there's _nothing_ here?"

"But I just want to look around."

"At cows?"

"At cows. Never seen one up close," Alfred announced sunnily, leaning over the table to wipe a crumb from Arthur's face. His fingers lingered dangerously close to the emerald-eyed boy's lips for a little longer that appropriate.

Auntie giggled.

"Someone's willing to hang out with you, dear, so try to act bearable at least for once," she frowned at Arthur. Then, to Alfred, smiling pleasantly: "Alfred, _honey_, I'll pack you some food so that the two of you can have picnic, and then it's a 'have a nice day'."

* * *

"Stop! Stop this fucking car! What the _bloody_ hell is that?"

The car was about to curve onto the asphalt road, leaving behind the shaded alley that led to the house. Arthur was staring at the crossroads they were approaching, Alfred was laughing.

"Nope, not stoppin'," he grinned, turning left.

"What the hell are those _pink_ sausages?"

"Arthur! How mean! They're caterpillars!"

The other just howled in despair. "You're _mad_. You're fucking mad. Just wait and see – I'll make you _lick_ the driveway clean."

"But now," Alfred looked at him with another wicked grin on his face. "The cows are waiting, baby!" he stomped on the accelerator.

As the car sped up suddenly, Arthur couldn't but gasp.

"You're going too fa-a-aaaaah-st!"

* * *

It was morning again. Arthur ran down the steps wondering where did all of yesterday just vanish… It had melted into sparkling laughter, sank in depths of sky blue eyes… He blushed and let out a long, frustrated sigh. It was like… a date?

Outside, auntie was crouching by the shaky-looking fence made of metallic web, a pair of nippers and a clew of iron wire in her hands. She noticed him and waved.

"Morning, Arthur, sweetheart," she chirped, her thick British accent surprisingly unaffected by the decades spent living in the States. "Had breakfast yet?"

"Um… Morning, auntie," he ran his fingers through his messy hair, squinting at the bright sun. "Yeah… I did," he lied.

"You didn't try to cook anything, did you?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, tiny wrinkles gathering in the corners of her greenish eyes.

"No!" Arthur sighed. "I figured out that plate under the napkin was for me, so I only cooked some water for tea…. God, auntie," he tried to sound frustrated once he noticed she was trying to suppress her laughter. "I _can_ cook water for tea, at least," he pouted.

"Sorry, I just can't help remembering the time when you put sugar into water for pasta, and kept adding more and more because it didn't taste salty…" the woman snickered, covering her mouth with a hand like a child.

Arthur shook his head.

"Uuh… Do you _have_ to remind me about it? Besides, that was _years_ ago!"

She just laughed.

"It's going to be a hot day…" she eventually said, looking thoughtfully at the sky. "What are you up to today?" she asked him this every day. And it wasn't like she didn't expect him to answer.

"I don't know," Arthur answered, which was true. While lying in the bed, he had for a moment considered going to the town to see if the hotel Alfred was staying at was really as bad as the git claimed it to be, but then he realized his pride wouldn't allow him to 'run to' the American idiot like he had nothing better to do. Although he _didn't_ have anything better to do, to be exact. Whatever.

* * *

There was no need for Arthur to 'run to' Alfred, though. Not long after the noon, the boy showed up all excited, claiming to have seen mysterious beasts in the woods on his way back to the hotel last night. He blabbered something about saving the village from alien invasion and insisted on looking for the mother ship no matter how Arthur tried to convince him that it was probably a deer or something. The enthusiasm beaming from his eyes left the Brit with no other option but to surrender. He chuckled to himself quietly while the other crawled on his all fours on the ground examining 'the evidence'. Arthur knew. _They_ were here… He felt his heart beat faster. He would have to visit his 'hide' soon, and he wondered if he should take Alfred with him…

* * *

Days were passing, and it didn't seem Alfred was up to leaving anytime soon, so Arthur just decided to be friends with him. Well, as friends as it was possible to be with his heart doing little loops and races every time the other stumbled too close to him or did something stupid like try to lick his ice cream or make dimwitted date jokes.

Since the American made a habit of hanging out at the farm the whole time, it didn't take auntie long to propose something that made Arthur break into cold sweat just thinking about it. When the three of them were eating lunch together on the veranda one sunny day, auntie – or Margaret, like she forced Alfred to call her for the lack of a better option – turned to look at Alfred.

"Why don't you come and live here for a while?" she asked, patting her lips with a napkin. "I'm sure the town's hostel is not a pleasant place to live at, the price is also horrid," she frowned a little, disapprovingly. "We've got plenty of free rooms, and actually" – she pointed at the house behind her back with a thumb – "we used to take people in for the summer, so… Why not?"

Arthur suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He turned his head to look at Alfred. The boy was beaming, there was no way he'd refuse. Arthur felt his cheek heat up. Oh god. What would all this result in..?

* * *

**A/N:** Yay! An update! :D Took me a while to finish this chapter, since I got an eye infection and had my right eye band-aided shut for 3 days... D: Couldn't really write anything, because I got headache from looking at the screen with one eye only... :S **About this story:** There's going to be 2 more chapters plus a short (?) epilogue. :) Wait for meeeeh! I'll try to update fast, but now I'm back to school (a week late, LoL) and teachers are already being beeeetches with all the homework and reports and stuff, well - you KNOW how it is. D:

Oh, and a question... just **a question**: Would anyone be interested in a Gerita+Spamano AU story? I have an idea, and I wonder if I should start working on it... OwO)/


	4. Chapter 4

**Wild Horses: Chapter 4**

**

* * *

**

"Ack! Sorry!" Arthur slammed the bathroom door shut so that the little window above the stairs rattled plaintively at the violent act. The boy smote his forehead with one hand, supporting himself on the wall with the other. Umpteenth time. The fact that the lock didn't work had never bothered him this much before. And the timing, the fucking timing! He banged his head against the wall lightly.

"Arty? You sleepwalking again?" Alfred held the door open. He was only wearing his boxers, his golden hair dripping water on his bare chest and shoulders covered by a towel.

"Mmph… Morning," Arthur didn't really know where to put his eyes. The sight was… was… slightly… mm, those abs… he wondered if the other worked out… oh, right, the sight: inappropriately delicious..? On the second thought, perhaps it were _his_ thoughts that made it inappropriate. Arthur wanted to slap himself.

He watched Alfred turn around and suddenly it wasn't only himself that he wanted to slap… '_Concentrate, Arthur,_' he psyched himself. _'Concentrate on the relevant – the toothbrush, for example.'_

Alfred had started drying his hair meanwhile.

"Geez, Arty," he watched the other's reflection in the mirror – Arthur was staring at the toothbrush on the sink as though he was trying to make it levitate, his cheeks were flushed. "Stop freaking out whenever you crash in on me coming out of the shower – you do that, like, every morning. Wake up before rising from the bed or get used to a naked hero being the first thing you see in the morning," he grinned devilishly.

When there was no reaction, the blue-eyed blond snapped around and waved his hand before Arthur's face.

"Concentrate on the relevant…" the other mumbled.

"What?" Alfred raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"N-nothing," Arthur sputtered, his blush darkening. "Just… um… talking to… myself."

"Do you do that often?"

* * *

Having Alfred in the house was… sort of tiring for Arthur's sanity. He didn't want to admit it, but he had liked the other from the first glance. Okay, maybe not. But it was a simple fact – no less, no more – that the other was attractive. Handsome. Those blue eyes be damned. He liked them so much. And… perhaps, just maybe, not only the eyes.

It was troubling. Not like this was the first time in his life that he was harboring feelings for a guy. It was just that… everything that might have been before had paled by the side of _this_ sapphire-eyed hurricane that was rapidly tearing down the walls of Arthur's heart. Alfred was a dazzling existence he couldn't look away from.

And right now this 'dazzling existence' was sitting across him by the table and munching on cereals while talking enthusiastically about something. It annoyed Arthur a little that he didn't have a clue of what the other was speaking about because he was too busy staring. It annoyed Arthur a little that his tea had long gone cold because he was too busy staring. It annoyed Arthur just a tiny-tiny bit that Alfred was in front of him, and in his head and on his way to his heart. And he had this little annoying feeling that he was forgetting something he was supposed to do, because he was too busy – no, this time not staring – being dragged around and in by the boy, whose existence he wasn't even aware of two weeks ago.

Suddenly, it occurred to him. Arthur slammed his palms against the wooden surface of the kitchen table, his eyes widening from the realization.

"What's the matter?" Alfred looked at him questioningly, tilting his head to the side – no, no, _no_, NOT seductively – a little.

"I just realized…" Arthur's voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and started anew: "There's something I want to show you!" his eyes were now sparkling from excitement.

"What is it?" Alfred leant in.

"Your 'invaders from the outer space'!" Arthur grinned.

"Wha-at?"

"You'll see," the emerald-eyed boy gave him a mysterious smile.

* * *

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…"

"Shut up."

"Holy shiiiiiiit," Alfred howled quietly, spinning his head to catch a glimpse of everything at the same time. "This is all I ever dreamt of when I was a kiddo – a place like this in the Central Park. Well, of course there were other things I wanted as well, like for example Batman's wings, mountain bike, and…"

"Save your wish list for Santa Claus, idiot, and _climb_ the fuck _up_!" Arthur poked at his ankle, urging the blond to continue climbing up the ladder.

Alfred complied, pushing himself up into the opening. He stood up, bending a bit not to hit his head on the roof. Meanwhile, Arthur followed his example. The semi-darkness of the 'attic', which happened to be the second floor of an abandoned shed by the field side, smelled of dry grass and old paper. There was a window on each end of the building, a curtain pulled closed on both of them. While Alfred stood there in amazement, Arthur made his way past him and removed the piece of canvas from daylight's pathway, letting a few lost sunrays into the rectangle-shaped room.

Half of the space was filled with hay and piles of old newspapers, but the area by the window where Arthur was now standing could go for a fairly neat, although rather poorly furnished, room. On the floor there was a couple of old mattresses, a giant cotton bag filled with hay that apparently represented an improvised beanbag chair, and by the opposite wall there were a few old and shaky nightstands. The weight of the books and old magazines that were piled on them was clearly too much for them. A framed print of a black-and-white photo with wild mustangs on it was leaning against one of the tables, looking abandoned.

"Wow," was all Alfred was able to utter looking at all that.

"Welcome to the realm of his Majesty King Arthur," the emerald-eyed boy bowed sarcastically, making a ponderous gesture with his hand.

"Ooh, where's your Round Table, sir?" Alfred giggled stepping closer. The boys stood now side by side in front of the window. "But man," he added after a second of silence. "Why didn't you show me this place earlier?"

"Forgot," Arthur shrugged, looking up to see the other pout mockingly. "Besides, it's not this _place_ I wanted to show you."

"Not this awesome hut?" Alfred looked at him with huge eyes. "What can be better than this?"

"You'll see. Just do what I tell you."

"Okay."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Arthur pushed past him to drag one of the mattresses so that it lay right under the window, which – Alfred noticed that now – was surprisingly big and reached the floor. He watched the other in silence, wondering what the green-eyed boy was up to.

"Now," Arthur looked at him, his brows furrowed just a tiny bit. "Lie down. On your stomach."

"Whaa-ah-aat?"

"Jesus you're dumb," Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "Like this," he said and lay down facing the window. Worming closer, he reached out to finger the frame, struggling to lift it up. It squeaked, sliding up a few inches. He looked up at Alfred, who was still standing, staring down at him. Blushing, he patted the empty space on the mattress beside himself. _Oh god this was so wrong_.

Alfred laughed out loud and slumped upon the mattress. He reached to help Arthur with the window while still wondering what was the other up to.

"It's still quite early, so they might be here," he whispered excitedly, now fully absorbed in eyeing the sight that opened before them now that the dirty-ish glass was out of the way. "But it might be we'll have to come back later to catch a glimpse of them," he whispered.

"Who?" Alfred asked dumbly, feeling like he was missing some crucial point.

"The wild horses," Arthur said that like it was the most evident thing in the world. He turned his head and stared owl-likely with his grass-green eyes at the New Yorker.

"…_couldn't drag me away_…" Alfred mumbled absent-mindedly, his look drifting involuntarily on the other's lips that were kind of close – he watched them curve in a smile.

"Oh, you know that song?"

"What song?"

"_Wild Horses_," Arthur said. "Rolling Stones."

"Not really… might'ave heard it somewhere…" Alfred's voice trailed off. "Wait!" he revived realizing what the other had said. "Did you say wild horses?"

Arthur nodded slowly.

"Ohmygod, are you joking? Are there still, like, wild horses out there? Like in the times of Old West?" his blue eyes grew to the size of small plates behind the spectacles.

Arthur nodded again, smiling amusedly.

Alfred gasped, turning to stare out of the window. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to detect movement in the vast field framed by the dusky crown of thin forest. Arthur tapped him on his shoulder, handing him binoculars that had magically appeared almost out of nowhere. The following five or ten minutes were spent in vain attempts to catch a glimpse of any possible signs of life. To Alfred's disappointment, there were no horses, so the sapphire-eyed boy groaned in frustration and rolled over away from the window. Arthur smiled at the other's obvious 'spoilt kid' –gesture.

"They often settle for the night right next to this hide at this time of a year," he explained. "It's amazing to see them just stand there, sleeping. The sight is a bit spooky when in the hours prior to the dawn you watch the mist rise and billow just above the ground," he stared dreamily into nothingness. "The mist, it's like the ocean and the horses – rocks in the water. Except that there is no sound of splashing waves at all. It's quiet. Always ever so quiet," the boy was smiling absent-mindedly, but Alfred could hear a note of sadness in his voice.

"Hey Arthur," he said to pull the other out of his daze. "I've been wondering… how come you live with auntie?" he looked at the other questioningly.

He did not expect Arthur to tense up suddenly.

"Um… Y-you don't have to answer!" he panicked, regretting his question, but it was too late. He saw Arthur gulp and look down, away from him.

"I…" his voice trailed off as he sat up, fingering his short hair nervously. "I…"

"I-it's fine," Alfred flailed his hand in a desperate gesture. "Let's not talk about it. Tell me about the horses," he _did_ realize how lame his attempt to change the topic was.

Arthur sucked in air through his nose loudly. "No," he shook his head, lifting his eyes to Alfred's face. "I… I think I _want_ to talk about it. I've always wanted to tell somebody. But I never have."

"O-okay," Alfred swallowed nervously. "Just… don't force yourself."

Arthur nodded, sitting back and crossing his legs. He folded his hands carefully on his lap and looked at Alfred, whose heart was now bouncing madly for some reason.

"My parents died when I was ten," he said very simply. "And it was my fault. No" – he shook his head again upon seeing the other's expression. – "Don't say that. I know it was. Or, not my _fault_, but it happened because of me. Because I was a dumb excuse for a ten-year-old."

He paused to breathe, feeling a knot beginning to form at the back of his throat. He was _not_ going to start bawling, he _was not_. Alfred said nothing, waiting for him to continue at his own pace.

"It was all terribly cliché," Arthur finally said, averting his eyes again. "They went out of town to visit dad's friend's country cottage. In the evening a terrible thunderstorm broke out. I was told their hosts insisted on them staying, but mom was sick worrying about me, because… I _am_ afraid of thunder. So they decided to drive, and…" he _couldn't_ make himself say it.

"A car crash?" Alfred asked quietly.

Arthur shook his head. "A massive tree. It was struck by a lightning bolt and came crashing right on their car." He could no more hold back his tears, allowing the hot drops trace down his flushed cheeks. He closed his eyes. This was harder, so much harder than what he had imagined after this many years had passes. He didn't want to see Alfred's pitying expression.

When Arthur wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his own chest in a reflexive gesture of anxiety, Alfred could no more suppress himself. He crawled forwards, and hugged the Brit tightly, drawing him flush against his own broad chest. Arthur felt too weak to protest, neither did he want to. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of the other's neck and breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of himself. But he couldn't. It was too long since he last time had cried his eyes out like this.

"I didn't see their faces ever again," he wept quietly. "Both mom and dad – they were buried in closed coffins… I… I never saw them… and I was so mad at them leaving me alone… all alone."

Alfred buried his nose in the crying boy's hair while drawing soothing circles on his back. He tried to say something to comfort the other, but only ended up mumbling something incoherent against his forehead. He didn't really know what to do in this kind of situations.

"You're not alone, Arty," he finally managed to whisper. "You've got a brilliant aunt, and…" he bit his lip. "Right now… I'm here for you as well."

They sat there, clinging to one another in silence disturbed only by Arthur's quietening sniffling and the chirrup of birds outside. Alfred was stroking the Arthur's hair absent-mindedly, while the other rested his forehead against his shoulder.

"Al?" Arthur was the first to break the established silence.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry," Alfred said softly, and kissed the green-eyed boy's forehead motherly. This gesture caused Arthur to blush madly and wriggle out of the spectacled boy's hold.

"W-we'd better to come here again in the evening when the mares with colts will be settling here for the night," he said, standing up. His cheeks were blazing red and he wasn't looking at the Alfred, who was smiling.

* * *

Arthur lay awake. A week had passed since he had shown Alfred his 'hide' – the boys had come back numerous times and the New Yorker had had a hard time controlling his excitement once he saw the dark silhouettes Arthur had talked about. However, he wanted more than that – he wanted to see with his own eyes the sight the emerald-eyed boy had described: wild horses bathing in the morning mist. And so now here they were – Alfred lay to on the mattress to his right, breathing quietly after having talked himself into sleep.

But Arthur couldn't follow the cheerful fellow's example. And it was not the blond that lay two feet away from him that was making his heart bounce – it was the quiet sounds of distant, but nearing thunder.

He clenched his fists and tried to close out the disturbing sounds by wiggling his way deep into his sheets. But even so, he could hear perfectly the loud row of trees outside in the wind. The window glass was also rattling quietly because of the strong gusts of wind. The storm was getting closer with every passing minute – it didn't take the heavy raindrops long to begin drumming on the roof. It was dark. Suddenly, a flash of bluish light illuminated the field outside and the attic. Arthur felt with horror his heart sink deep into his gut. Curling up into a human ball, he covered his ears with his hands and waited for the rolls of thunder he knew would shake the wooden building to the core. He had gotten caught by a mid-summer thunderstorm while at the 'hide' a few years ago, and it had caused him nightmares for months. The virescent-eyed boy remembered running for his life in the rain like it was yesterday, sneaking soaked into the house and shaking, clinging to his unicorn plushie until the dawn, living through the most horrid night of his life all over again inside his head.

His quiet whimper of terror was covered by a series of powerful rolls. The trees outside were complaining in the merciless wind. Then, there was another flash, followed by a whole series of lightning bolts that set the horizon aflame with their light. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath, while his heart seemed to be doing its everything to jump out of his chest.

"Arthur! Arty!" he was shaken by his shoulders. "Hey, hey… Are you okay? Breathe!"

He opened his eyes to see Alfred's face ghosting a few inches away from his own. Another flash outside illuminated the room for a blink of an eye, snatching the blue-eyed boy's concerned expression out of the darkness.

The thunder roared outside, and Arthur's eyes snapped shut automatically. He shook his head frantically, not realizing that his whole body was shaking as well.

"Arthur!" Alfred grasped the boy's wrists firmly and tore is shaking hands away from his ears. "Breathe! Take deep breaths, or you'll pass out." He let go of his wrists to pull him closer. "Here we go… like this…" Alfred rolled over so that they were now facing each other. He began to smoothly caress the other's wet cheek with his left hand, while sneaking the other hand around the shaking boy's waist. Even though they both were wrapped each into their own blanket, he could feel the smaller male's warmth against his chest, and it was making his heart beat faster.

"Relax," Alfred mumbled, his regular breath tickling Arthur's face. "It'll stop shaking… breathe in through your nose, exhale through the mouth…" as he said this, his fingers slipped down Arthur's cheek to caress the boy's slightly parted lips.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at him. His breath hitched, as a particularly loud roll of thunder caused a shudder to run through his body.

"I can't…" he gasped. "I can't I can't I can't." His green eyes were wide open, he was biting his lower lip violently.

"Shh… calm down," Alfred began stroking his back soothingly. "Close your eyes… listen to me…" his voice drowned in thunder – the rolls went on an on, playing some strange symphony of nature, one roll following another. Arthur's hands twitched, and he tried to cover his ears, but Alfred was faster, moving his hands to the other's ears. All Arthur could do was grasp the other's wrists and hold them in place.

Alfred looked into the boy's face. Even wearing his most miserable expression, his eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking uncontrollably, he was incredibly cute… and so close…

"Hey, Arthur…" he mumbled, even though he knew the other couldn't hear him. "Calm down. Breathe. I'm right here." he wriggled closer. "Just… don't think about anything bad right now… concentrate on the relevant…"

Slowly, Alfred leant in, his eyes fixed on Arthur's lips that were bright red after all the biting the boy had done in order to hold himself from freaking out completely. When yet another flash of light outside illuminated the room, he saw that they were shaking.

Frowning lightly, he crossed the remaining distance between them and kissed Arthur on the lips. The boy inhaled sharply, but did not try to withdraw. Alfred, determined to make the other forget the thunder and his fright, began to plant slow, sweet butterfly kisses on the Brit's lips, starting from one corner of his mouth and moving unhurriedly to the other. Arthur's lips were soft and warm, the minty freshness of toothpaste still lingering on them. Slowing down even more, Alfred sandwiched his lower lip between his own and gently nibbled at it. He could feel Arthur begin to relax – his body, which was drawn flush against Alfred's own, was already shaking less.

Alfred withdrew a little to look at the man he had just kissed in the semi-darkness of the night filled with blinding flashes of lightning bolts and deafening thunder. Arthur lay still, his lips still parted a bit. At the loss of the contact, his eyelids began to flutter and he slowly opened his eyes, as though fearing the kiss had been just a dream. His hands slipped off Alfred's wrists and travelled hesitantly to brush the blue-eyed male's face softly. As though in a silent agreement both of them snuggled closer to each other, their lips touching now for the second time.

Tangling his fingers into Arthur's hair, Alfred pulled him closer. The man was breathing shakily, deep blush covered his normally pale cheeks and neck – not like Alfred could see that, though, but as he slid his palm down to caress the other's neck, be could feel the skin practically heat up under his touches. Probingly, he parted his lips more and let his tongue slide over Arthur's lower lip.

After letting out another shaky breath, Arthur returned the favor, his fingers now tracing along Alfred's jaw line. He sucked gently on the other's upper lip, letting Alfred nibble and trace with the tip of his tongue his lower lip. Then, he tried to withdraw to look at the blond with half-lidded eyes, but Alfred didn't let him, catching his lips with his own and pulling him into a deeper, longer kiss.

Arthur felt dizzy. Out of breath. Alfred's lips were teasing his, seducing them mercilessly into a head-spinning dance. The kiss was sweet yet passionate, the tips of their tongues brushing against each other from time to time, making both of them let out shaky breaths.

Eventually their swollen lips parted and the two of them lay unmoving, staring at each other in the darkness. Alfred smiled, and pulled Arthur into a warm hug, intent on keeping the other close like this for the rest of the night. The rain was drumming on the roof, wind howling madly outside, but the two of them were shut off in their own little world where nothing could disturb them and no words were needed – the words could wait until the morning.

* * *

The dancing sunrays woke Alfred up. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked in an attempt to focus his blurry vision. Bit by bit, the contours Arthur's sleeping face appeared from the blur. The two of them still lay facing each other, although it seemed they had moved farther apart in their sleep. Their fingers were entwined, though, and it was like a sweet promise that the kiss they had shared in the night hadn't been just a dream, a product of a feverish mind in love.

Carefully, fearing to wake the other up, Alfred brought his limp hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, smiling. Indeed, it was very early, and very quiet. The storm was gone, and the sun was slowly rolling over the line of horizon.

'_Peculiar_… _what a peculiar coincidence_,' Alfred thought, watching Arthur's eyelids flutter in the sleep. '_Had I gotten off the train one stop earlier or later, I would have never met him._' He pressed the emerald-eyed boy's hand against his cheek.

"_All the things I still remember… Summers never looked the same…_" he whispered, watching Arthur furrow his eyebrows. He seemed to be still asleep, but when he tried to rub his face, and Alfred wouldn't let go of his hands, his eyelids began to flutter again.

"Mmmpfh…" Arthur opened is eyes. His mind was still fuzzy from the sleep, so it took him a while to realize that Alfred was holding his hands and planting gentle kisses on the knuckles. He blushed, his heartbeat speeding up as the memories of their night affair flooded his head. "Oh god…." he mumbled hoarsely.

"Arthur," Alfred purred looking at him. He wormed closer to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of the blushing boy's mouth. He pressed their foreheads together looked deep into Arthur's emerald-tinted eyes. "You don't mind this, do you?" he asked.

Arthur's blush deepened, as he averted his eyes. He opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but closed it when no sound came out. Then, he leant closer and kissed Alfred briefly, almost stealthily.

"Of course not," he spoke under his breath. "Idiot."

* * *

**A/N: **Oh god. The longest chapter I've ever written. OTL :D I hope you guys liked this chappie - I had a lot of fun, but also a lot of difficulty to write it! I had to use dictionary a lot for some reason, because uuh my English is still not the best. But I'm trying to be at least a spelling nazi...

Also - never written a kissing scene before... lack of personal experience... orz... Did I do okay? *looks with puppy eyes* Geez I'm so nervous now - wish me luck for the next chapter, because that's where the story will finally live to its rating! XD ...and I've never written smut before... gah. I just hope it won't be a complete disaster. m(=_=;)m


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